


tuesday night

by novoaa1



Category: Supergirl (TV 2015)
Genre: A lot - Freeform, And in love, Cuddles, Established Relationship, F/F, POV Samantha "Sam" Arias, Sam loves Lena, Soft Girlfriends, aaaand thats it i think, and sam's like super super smitten, but thats ok cause sam's there to help, cause shes a good girlfriend, lena works too hard, lena's touch starved and needs love, lenas a flirt, lenas a workaholic, they're soft, uhhhh, which is cute, which we love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-23 23:51:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19161547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/novoaa1/pseuds/novoaa1
Summary: Lena works too hard... But that's okay, because she has Sam.Also, Sam is smitten. Like, very much so. (Can you blame her?)





	tuesday night

**Author's Note:**

> uhhh idk man
> 
> i can't rlly decide if i'm that into this ship, but i really love lena's character and this one-shot just kinda hit me square in the face and wouldn't leave me alone until i wrote it so uhhhhhhhh
> 
> here it is! :)

Sam knows very well that Lena Luthor is among the most brilliant minds on this planet. (Or any other planet, probably.)

 

On a semi-related note, she’s also not quite sure how she managed to rope said brilliant mind into being her girlfriend (because Lena is the youngest CEO of a Fortune Five Hundred company in… well, ever, and Sam still has to make bunny ears out of her shoelaces to tie them every day), but that’s a concern for another day, she supposes.

 

And maybe it’s that much stronger for her because Lena had actually saved her life using that genius-level brilliance in rather dramatic fashion (i.e. during the whole ‘Reign’ incident where the Kryptonian worldkiller was in the midst of plotting a mass genocide of the human race), but seriously—Sam will forever stand by the firm belief that her girlfriend is a real-life certifiable genius, and for that, she deserves nothing less than the world. (Because she is, and she does.)

 

And, as the CFO of L-Corp and full-time single mother of one particularly sassy teen, it’s not like she’s necessarily in any position to be giving Lena the magnitude of things she deserves—but in her own way, she tries. Every single day. 

 

She encourages Lena to talk her through the newest developments in the R&D lab that have her most excited (even if Sam hasn’t the slightest clue what any of it means), tells Kara and Alex and the rest of them about every one of Lena’s renowned accomplishments that the woman herself is far too modest to announce when they come about, and just overall makes it a visible priority to let everyone around her know that her her girlfriend, Lena _freaking_ Luthor, is a goddamned genius and should be seen as such because she’s sensational in every sense of the word.

 

And does she occasionally go a bit overboard with the whole ‘My-girlfriend’s-an-actual-certified-genius-and-I-love-her’ deal?

 

Nope—Sam doesn’t believe in such a thing, because there can never be ‘too much’ support for Lena and her genius.

 

Though, of course, there always exists a line—a line that Lena is all too happy to cross at the slightest whim, no matter the consequences towards her own mental and physical health. 

 

And today, with Lena now on hour number 36 of work at L-Corp (she hadn’t come home last night), Sam knows Lena’s crossed it—her text replies are curt and irritated, according to Jess she’s consumed a fuckton of coffee (Sam’s words obviously, not Jess’s), and Sam knows very well she hasn’t slept more than three hours a night since graduating high school at the age of 13.

 

So, she calls an Uber, and gets herself to L-Corp as soon as she can possibly manage—it’s just past 7pm, and she can’t imagine Lena’s headspace is anywhere good (though she’s probably still ridiculously high-functioning like a well-oiled machine because she’s Lena Luthor, billionaire genius and world-renowned philanthropist, and Lena Luthor is nothing if not terrifyingly efficient at any given moment). 

 

She strides briskly into the elevator, gives a reassuring nod to a slightly panicked-looking Jess on her way to Lena’s office, and a second later, she’s cracking the door and slipping unassumingly into the large space, unsurprised when Lena doesn’t look up for a second to greet her—honestly, Sam knows, she's probably been so wrapped up in her work she didn’t notice Sam’s arrival to being with (which, admittedly, is fairly typical as Lena’s horrific work habits go).

 

“Hey, hon,” she calls out softly, non-threateningly—still, Lena flinches like she’s been shocked, her ballpoint pen shaking violently in her grip, wide green eyes tinged with pink darting upwards to eye the intruder with scarcely-concealed alarm. 

 

It takes her a moment, but she calms eventually, having finally registered that it's Sam in her office (as opposed to someone who shouldn’t be), her eyelids drooping _adorably_ as a lazy grin spreads across her exhausted features. 

 

(She looks beautiful.)

 

“Sam,” she replies in kind, her voice tired and hoarse—the poignant worry only grows in Sam’s gut at the sound. “What’re you doing here?” She pauses, a flash of panic flitting across her face. “Did I forget something? Did we have a dinner planned? Shit, Sam, I’m so—"

 

“No dinner plans,” Sam assures her with a chuckle, delighting in the rosy blush that tinges Lena’s high cheekbones in response. “But I think it’s time you came home, hm?”

 

Lena bites her lip, looking nervous, and Sam knows this isn’t going to be all that easy. “Darling, I wish but I—I haven’t so much as _looked_ at the quarterly reports, and there’s a meeting with Wayne Enterprises I need to—"

 

“Lena, you haven’t slept in 36 hours, and according to Jess—"

 

“Traitor,” Lena mumbles spitefully, and Sam fights the urge to laugh.

 

“—you haven’t had anything to eat save for chai tea soy milk lattes with four shots of espresso—“

 

“They’re called double slutty chais, thank you very much,” Lena grumbles petulantly, and an affectionate smile curves across Sam’s lips despite herself. 

 

“Hon, it’s time to go home. Work will still be here in the morning.”

 

Lena pouts, widening her wide emerald-green eyes pleadingly at Sam. “One more e-mail?”

 

Sam narrows her gaze intently. “Not a chance. Get your things together—I’m calling your driver.”

 

“I think I like when you boss me around, Ms. Arias,” Lena purrs silkily, and heat pools in Sam’s belly even as she notes the exhaustion behind that red-painted smirk, the deflection from being made to agree.

 

“Don’t distract me, sweetheart,” she coos back, just as low and sultry, because two can play that game… And if the taken aback but vaguely aroused look on Lena’s features is anything to go by, she’s proven herself a formidable opponent—then, she’s sliding her sleek black phone from her pocket and placing it against her ear in a swift movement, getting Frank (Lena’s driver) on the phone in a matter of seconds. 

 

A minute later, Frank has promised to be waiting outside L-Corp for whenever they’re ready—Lena is pouting at her like a child, Sam is doing her very best not to let said pout affect her, and by all accounts, things are going almost exactly as expected (a rarity, Sam’s come to realize). 

 

It takes some coercing, but soon enough they’re piling into the sleek matte-black Rolls out front and a wearied Lena is resting her head on Sam’s shoulder, the city lights twinkling dully through the tinted glass, Sam stroking gently at Lena’s loose dark waves and whispering sweet nothings into her ear, Lena’s eyelids fluttering with every second she spends fighting off sleep. 

 

“Don’t fight, Lee,” Sam whispers into the woman’s hair, snaking an arm around Lena’s slim figure; almost immediately Lena is melting even further into her, the softest of sighs escaping her as she nuzzles absentmindedly into the warmth of Sam’s chest, and Sam suddenly feels like the luckiest woman in the entire world.

 

(Which, admittedly, has become something of an everyday occurrence since Sam had finally mustered the nerve to ask Lena to dinner, because Lena said yes, and she kept saying yes, and Sam doesn’t know for the life of her why Lena thinks Sam is anywhere close to good enough for her, but she sure as hell won’t question it, not when Lena smiles at her like _that_ and kisses her like it means something and relies on her like _she_ means everything.

 

She really is the luckiest woman in the entire world.)

 

A couple minutes pass and Lena’s surrendering into a blissful sleep in Sam’s embrace, letting out adorable little mewls on every exhale—they’re not quite snores, just little drowsy whimpers and _God_ , it’s all just so _Lena_ , Sam feels the affection and love in her chest quite literally threatening to swallow her whole. 

 

And later, when she’s carrying a wholly unconscious Lena up to the penthouse, she thinks her heart might just explode with tenderness—it only increases tenfold as she’s tucking the adorable woman into bed then placing a warm lingering kiss upon her smooth forehead, chuckling at Lena’s sleepy and barely discernible mumbles beneath her breath about work and percent yields and L-Corp’s projected earnings, because even when unconscious she never seems to quit, and Sam loves her, she _loves_ her with everything she has, with a kind of dynamic intensity she fears might kill her someday if she’s not careful about keeping it in check.

 

She wouldn’t mind, though, and perhaps that’s the scariest part: that as she’s curled up in bed with the woman she loves, listening to her quiet exhales, she knows without a doubt she’d die for the smallest chance of loving her, of being the one she loves, too (though for what possible reason she does is entirely beyond Sam’s admittedly limited comprehension of the world and its ever-elusive inter-workings), of being here on a Tuesday night with a feeling deep in her very bones that’s telling her she’s finally found the person she wants to spent a lifetime with.

 

And really, Sam thinks as she watches Lena’s chest rise and fall, as she observes the delicate slope of her elegant collarbones in the scant moonlight—maybe it’s not so scary, after all. 

 

— —

**Author's Note:**

> as always, would love feedback etc. !!
> 
> (my [tumblr](https://psyches.co.vu/))


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